


The Case of the Silver Specter

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Based On Buzzfeed Unsolved, Dubious Consent, Ghost Hunters, Ghost Sex, M/M, Reincarnation, but yuuri clearly likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: When Phichit and Yuuri investigate the Old Nikiforov House, Yuuri expects to find about the same amount of paranormal activity as they find in any other 'haunted' site: that is to say, none at all. But something is off about this latest location. Spooky, sexy shenanigans are afoot, and the story goes deeper than any of them could have ever guessed. Will they find the legendary Silver Specter, or will this case remainUnsolved!
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 36
Kudos: 424





	The Case of the Silver Specter

“So until then, the case of the Ruby Room will remain  _ Unsolved,”  _ Phichit said dramatically.

Beside him, Yuuri waggled his fingers for effect. Phichit gave him a long suffering look. “Okay, that’s not funny anymore, seriously.”

“Booooooo,” Yuuri teased as the video faded out. “I’m a ghoooooost~” It trailed off as the video shifted to eerie music and the ending screen featuring links to other videos. 

Over the last year, Phichit and Yuuri’s videos had skyrocketed in popularity. It was far more than they had ever expected, making their videos the most popular series on the HumLink channel. In fact, HumLink Unsolved episodes regularly hit the trending list when they were released. 

Yuuri was having so much fun at Phichit’s expense, it barely even registered that he was one of the most watched faces on the internet (according to Phichit, anyway, who is not to be believed under any circumstances). And now they were walking into their next haunted house, ready to start filming. 

“You’re not scared, are you?” Yuuri said. Phichit nearly leapt out of his skin. “You’re even jumpier than usual.”

“That's not even fair, and you know it.” Phichit turned to face the cameraman, putting on his serious face. The ‘I’m scared out of my mind right now and pretending to be professional’ face, as Yuuri liked to call it. “The Nikiforov House is home to what many locals here call the Silver Spectre. But others believe that something far more sinister lurks within, and that the Silver Spectre is actually a demon.”

“Hey, that was pretty good,” Yuuri said. 

“Thanks,” Phichit said. “Okay, so… we cut to the history of this place now, I think…”

* * *

Phichit and Yuuri were sitting side by side. Phichit read off a paper in front of him, as the video shifted to an image of the famous building. “The Nikiforov House was built in 1925 by a famous retired figure skater by the name of Victor Nikiforov. He lived there for three years, before his untimely death at the age of 30, on the day of his birthday.”

“Victor Nikiforov? You mean  _ the  _ Victor Nikiforov?” Yuuri said in disbelief. The video changed to black, with text on either side denoting the conversation. Yuuri’s words, in blue on the left, scrolled slowly up the screen. 

“I don’t know what other Victor Nikiforovs you’re thinking of, so probably,” Phichit said. His words were mirrored in yellow text scrolling up the right side of the screen. “Wait, how do you know him?”

“Victor is only one of the most famous figure skaters of all time! He was a living legend!”

“Well, he’s also probably a ghost.”

“Good, I hope we meet him,” Yuuri said lightly. “Prove to me the impossible, Victor!”

“Please, please don’t antagonize this one,” Phichit was nearly begging. It cut back to their faces, sitting beside each other at an old desk, documents piled around them. 

Yuuri cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because there’s a chance that the ghost of Victor Nikiforov is the least of the house’s problems. Others say something darker lurks within the walls…”

Yuuri leaned forward. “It’s a demon, isn’t it.”

“It might be! You know those are serious. There are people who say that Victor Nikiforov sold his soul to a demon in exchange for his skating abilities, but the demon can’t capture the soul as long as it still roamed the earth. So now it waits in the house along with the Silver Spectre, just waiting for the moment to strike.”

“What do people who aren’t crazy think?” Yuuri said. 

“Others say he’s always been a demon. That he was possessed at a young age by a demon that wanted to be human, to enjoy the excesses of mortal life.”

“Okay, that one is even more ridiculous,” Yuuri scoffed. 

Phichit shrugged. “Look, I don’t know. I’ll explain more when we get to the theories. For now, let’s finish going over the history…”

* * *

Cameramen followed them inside the house. Yuuri coughed. “Wow, dusty.”

“I mean, it’s been empty for like, ten years. At least. They don’t even do tours in here.” Phichit walked gingerly through the room, his feet leaving prints in the thick layer of dust. Clouds rose out of the carpet with each footfall. The golden beam of his flashlight skated over the walls. 

“Well, here we are. Let’s get started,” Yuuri said. 

They made their way through the rooms, one by one. Jumpy as Phichit was, Yuuri found the house was really very tame. The cameramen caught nothing of note. 

They slowed down as they reached the stairway to the master bedroom. “Here is where most of the sightings take place,” Phichit said. “I was thinking we could use the spirit box in here. Try to talk to the ghost. Then we could walk around by- by- by ourselves,” he choked out, looking nervous. 

“Don’t look so eager,” Yuuri said. “Alright! Let’s go in.” He practically had to drag Phichit into the room. The space was huge. This was more like a landing than a bedroom, with dust cover-blanketed couches spread comfortably around the room and arranged in front of an absolutely massive fireplace. The hearth was empty. 

Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Demon! Ghost! Whatever you are, we’re waiting for you! Show yourself!”

Phichit shoved his arm, shushing him and hissing, “Don’t make it mad!”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Yuuri said. “Nothing ever happens.”

A breeze stirred the room. Phichit froze in place. “Shut up shut up shut up-”

“It’s just a draft. This house is a hundred years old and poorly maintained. Look, water damage on the floor there. I bet the roof leaks, too.” Yuuri pointed out a moldering spot in the corner. 

Phichit was squeezing too tightly to Yuuri’s elbow. When nothing else happened, Yuuri gingerly pried his fingers off. “Let’s keep looking around. Might be something fun in the bedroom.”

“The bedroom is where he supposedly died,” Phichit said. 

“Cool, let’s get a closer look.” Yuuri walked closer, hearing footsteps behind him, following closely on the dusty carpet. He opened the door. Phichit slipped his hand into Yuuri’s, his fingers like ice. 

Yuuri let go, turning back to Phichit. “Why on earth is your hand so cold-” Yuuri broke off. Phichit was still by the stairs, all the way across the room. He was pointing at the floor and shaking. 

“The- the footsteps- Yuuri!”

Two sets of footprints tracked across the dusty carpet. One set followed all the way up to Yuuri’s feet. The other ended in nothing. Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Someone must have been in here before us and followed their own footsteps out.”

“They just appeared there, Yuuri! I swear! Tell me you got that,” Phichit said, whirling to the cameraman. The cameraman shrugged. “You’re no help. Yuuuri, don’t go in that room. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“You’ve always got a bad feeling,” Yuuri said. As for the hand he thought was Phichit’s… well, it was probably just Yuuri’s imagination at work. Eerie location, Phichit’s stories, too much caffeine in his tea, bad combo. It didn’t help that Yuuri was too wound up.

There were old photographs on the walls of the bedroom as Yuuri finally stepped inside. Very few photographs of Victor Nikiforov were available despite his legendary status. The bedroom had far more than Yuuri had expected. 

Dusty pictures showed Victor winning Olympic gold in 1924, becoming the first Olympic gold medal figure skater in history. He pioneered much of the sport’s current stylings, which Yuuri still followed with great interest today. He was more beautiful than Yuuri could even imagine. 

Several picture frames were empty. The stories said Victor had a lover that lived in the house with him. When the lover died, Victor took his own life to be with them. But when he was unable to find the lover’s soul in heaven or hell, he was forced to turn back to earth. Perhaps he removed the portraits of the lover before then. 

Something cold ran down the back of his neck, and Yuuri whirled around. Nothing there. He ran his fingers over his nape, where the coldness was most intense. A faint chill lingered on the skin. 

The door creaked as Phichit made it inside at last. 

“This will probably be a good place for the spirit box,” Phichit said. He pulled out the godforsaken box of annoyance, and Yuuri had to resist physically cringing. 

The device cycled rapidly through radio frequencies, and the idea was that spirits could use it to communicate. It was a load of crock, but Phichit loved it. Phichit turned it on, and it let out a loud hiss and a steady, annoying drone of radio static.

Phichit took a deep breath. “Okay. My name is Phichit Chulanont. My friend here is Yuuri Katsuki. Can I ask who we’re speaking with?”

The radio crackled and indistinguishable words came garbling out. Even Phichit was struggling to identify what was said. 

“Could you repeat that? What is your name?”

The box hummed with static for a moment before squawking out in a distorted voice,  _ “Victor.” _

“Oh shit,” Phichit swore, nearly dropping the box. “I swear it just said Victor.”

“It didn’t sound  _ that  _ clear,” Yuuri said. “Victor, if you can hear us, answer me! Do you want to hurt Phichit?”

Another lull, then a very distinct  _ No _ came from the box. Phichit was trembling. “Yuuri… stop baiting the ghost! Just because you want to bone a hundred year old dead guy-”

“I do not!” Yuuri said, jabbing Phichit with his elbow. Phichit dodged, already looking less terrified. 

The spirit box squawked again, garbled sounds mixing together to almost form words. It was clearer this time. “Let me in.” 

Phichit looked ready to run. Yuuri grabbed the box and asked more questions. But after that, there was nothing of interest said. Boring. Phichit still looked ready to wet himself, so Yuuri shut the box off. “Okay, enough of that. Let’s just move on to individual sessions, yeah?”

“What if we just… didn’t,” Phichit said. “Look, no one will even miss them-”

“I’ll totally call you out in the episode,” Yuuri said. 

Phichit fumed. “Evil!”

“That’s revenge for posting that embarrassing picture of me with my face in a bowl of noodles.” 

Phichit wailed softly. Both of them were already wearing cameras. “I’ll let you go first,” Yuuri said. 

Phichit gave him a very unhappy look. “Thanks so much. Fine. Give me the spirit box.”

“All yours,” Yuuri said, passing it over. He walked out, leaving Phichit alone inside. “See you in ten minutes!” Yuuri and the cameramen walked all the way to the stairs and down to the floor below. 

The cameraman waited patiently. Yuuri grinned at the lens. The draft stirred the room, sending the dust covers fluttering. He couldn’t help but shiver from the cold. “They need to fix that draft,” Yuuri grumbled. 

The cameraman flinched as a board shifted above them. “S-sorry,” the camera guy said. 

Yuuri shrugged. Just Phichit moving around upstairs. “So how long do you think it’ll be before he comes running out and screaming? Not that this place is actually haunted. He’s just been so jumpy, you know?”

Yuuri chatted to the camera for the duration of the time. Occasionally, shouts and yelps carried down from the floor above. “Well, he made it longer than I thought.” Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth. “Phichit, that’s ten! Come on down!”

It was a moment before Phichit climbed down the stairs on shaky legs, clutching the rail to help himself down. “That was awful!” Phichit choked out. “We’ll see who’s laughing when you go up there.”

“Probably me,” Yuuri said. He took the stairs two at a time. Yuuri started in the front parlor, double checking the body cameras so they were pointed at his face and all around him. 

He pulled off one of the dust covers, revealing a surprisingly intact-looking sofa. Yuuri tossed the dust cover aside and took a seat. “So this is where you died, right? This room right here?” He waited and, predictably, got no response. 

“Come on, Victor! You know I had a crush on you when I was 12, right? Thought you were handsome?” Yuuri started to mutter to himself, “God this is embarrassing. I’m editing all this out before Phichit ever sees it.”

He shook his head. Nothing yet. Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey Victor, I still think you’re pretty handsome. Why don’t you come out and meet me?” Yuuri jeered harder. Ghosts weren’t real, and Yuuri was going to prove it. 

“Come on, if you want me to know you’re here, prove it to me! Touch me! Pull my clothes or do anything you want! I’m right here, you demon. Show me what you’ve got!”

Silence. Another chilly breeze stirred through the room. Yuuri entered the bedroom, pulling the dust cover off the bed. He started to jump on it. “See, Victor? I’m right here. Unless you’re afraid? Are you afraid of a little mortal like me-”

Yuuri broke off as he suddenly found himself slammed into his back on the bed. He let out a shallow cough. His foot must have slipped on the sheets. His body was sprawled out on the bed, and he was lucky he only grazed his head against the headboard, a low, dull ache ringing between his ears. 

Yuuri grumbled as he sat slowly upright, checking the cameras. They were all still positioned properly. A curtain was stirring, looking almost agitated. 

Yuuri stuck out his tongue. “Is that the worst you’ve got, Victor? I’m right here, come and get me!”

The air rushed out of Yuuri’s lungs. Ice closed around his shoulders, shaped like hands but sculpted from snow. He was shoved onto his back once more, staring up at the ceiling as his legs were wrenched apart by some unseen force. 

“What the fuck-?” Yuuri gasped. Icy hands ran over his thighs. Warmth trailed in their wake, burning pleasantly under his skin. “What’s going on-” The hands continued up his thighs, one invisible hand palming his cock roughly between his legs. 

Yuuri let out a shaky moan.

“That’s… impossible. Ohhh, that feels good. V-Victor? Is that you?” 

The hands grew somehow bolder, as if to say, “ _ Yes.” _ The touches grew more solid, a little warmer, feeling up Yuuri’s waist and stroking his cock over his jeans. Yuuri sank into the dusty pillows with a low groan. 

“Oh my god, this isn’t real,” he said. 

The hands went still for a moment, then came back with even more force. One sank  _ through  _ Yuuri’s jeans, all the way to his bare skin. It wrapped around his cock, stroking the naked skin beneath his underwear. Yuuri let out a shallow cry of pleasure. It startled him so much he couldn’t muffle it completely. 

Yuuri threw a hand over his mouth, but that same ghostly force came back and his hands were flung above his head. He felt lips against his own. Yuuri stifled another gasp against the ghostly mouth. The curious hands began to explore. 

Yuuri was helpless as the invisible touch followed the lines and curves of his skin, tickling up his waist and back down. And still that ghostly right hand went  _ wild  _ over Yuuri’s cock, cruelly stroking him until Yuuri was gasping for air. 

“Ah, please, I’m going to cum, aaah,” Yuuri cried out. The invisible mouth sealed itself back over his, kissing him firmly as Yuuri let out a shuddering gasp. “Coming- I’m- Mmff, mmm,” he moaned. His cock jerked in his pants, spilling messily. Yuuri hadn’t cum this fast since high school. 

The mouth against his curled up in a smirk. Teasing him. Yuuri scowled. “You think you’re funny, don’t you!” His voice rose in pitch as the hand closed around his oversensitive cock, and he thrashed around, gasping for air. It was too much. 

The hand took mercy on him, lifting away. Yuuri gasped for air. His glasses had been knocked askew on his face. They were carefully plucked off his nose, folded up before his very eyes, and gently placed on the pillow beside him. Yuuri tried to catch his breath. 

He should scream for Phichit. He should do something. His mind was whirling faster than he could process information. Ghosts, Demons, phantastical forces… they were real. They were real and present and currently touching Yuuri’s stomach and the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs. 

Yuuri bit his lip to muffle a whimper. So soon after an orgasm, his body was oversensitive, wound too tightly to bear. Every light touch felt like too much. It was even harder when the hands touching him were invisible, impossible to see where they would touch next, always leaving Yuuri guessing. 

He bit back another groan. The hands were getting bold again. This time, the lips trailed down Yuuri’s neck, laving over the skin with a hot, invisible tongue, biting down with invisible teeth over the sensitive places on Yuuri’s throat. 

Victor’s hands worked their way down to Yuuri’s genitals. One hand resumed toying with Yuuri’s cock. It kept the touches much lighter now, teasing the shaft and rolling Yuuri’s balls in its fingers. The other hand must have phased through the bed and sheets, pressing with just the right amount of pressure to part Yuuri’s ass cheeks. It met resistance as the tip of the finger started to rub against the taut ring of muscle. 

Yuuri thrashed, letting out a startled gasp and said, “What are you doing-” 

The fingertip became slick in an instant as it continued to massage the rim, teasing and toying with the skin around it. Yuuri’s legs jerked and twitched, but didn’t move. A low moan bubbled up inside him. “Oh my god… Oh… aah…” His words failed him, dissolving into shallow panting as the soft petting continued. 

The finger pressed inside. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered heavily, his breath bitching as the ghostly finger spread his body open inside his jeans. He was still dressed, making this the weirdest sensation Yuuri could think of.

Victor went slow enough that it didn’t cause pain. Considerate, for a dead guy. A twisted part of Yuuri’s brain was aware enough to think this while the rest of it melted into pudding as the finger reached new depths, pressing solidly against Yuuri’s prostate.

Yuuri moaned. His cock gave a feeble twitch, starting to rise to the occasion once more. Victor drew back, then thrust his finger back in, working Yuuri open at a relentless pace. When one finger became easy, a second ghostly finger joined the fun, then a third. 

Yuuri was beginning to sob. He should be terrified, he should be begging for freedom. But Victor’s touch was so nice. Victor’s kisses felt so real, his fingers so nimble as they twisted and thrust and toyed with Yuuri’s body. All he felt was the deepest kind of pleasure, mixed with only a slight dose of fear. 

The fingers pulled out. The emptiness was almost painful. “In me, in me,” Yuuri panted. “Please!” 

Victor was clearly happy to oblige. Yuuri wished he could see the ghost, see what was being done, see Victor’s handsome face as the blunt head of what was unmistakably a cock pressed flush against Yuuri’s asshole. He felt a soft kiss against his lips. 

Yuuri sighed. He suddenly realized his hands were free of the ghostly force. When he reached out, he felt silky hair, invisible still but feeling so real, so unbelievably real. Victor’s hips flexed and he started to push inside. 

The air left Yuuri’s body. He shuddered, not from terror but from bliss. “So big, oh my god, fuck you’re big…” Yuuri panted. He could almost swear the whole room seemed to shake with laughter. 

Lips found his again, the kisses cloyingly sweet as that massive cock pushed deeper inside. Yuuri hummed softly, voice pitching up with every roll of those invisible hips. Each thrust pushed in deeper and reached new places inside him, carving out a space inside Yuuri that was wholly Victor’s. It filled every millimeter it was given, and still it kept bearing down, until Yuuri was sobbing with bliss. 

“So much… So good…” Yuuri cried out. He felt something brush his skin. Finally Victor had bottomed out, and what felt like heavy ghostly testicles pressed flush against his body, balls deep at last. There was a momentary pause as Yuuri caught his breath.

Yuuri barely had a moment to breathe before it suddenly pulled almost all the way out, leaving only the thick head inside before thrusting back in. Yuuri squealed in shock. Victor was even more relentless now, and Yuuri could almost  _ hear  _ the wet slap of skin as he was fucked out of his own mind. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yesss,” Yuuri panted. Arms wrapped around him, hauling him into a slightly chilly embrace. It set his nerves on fire. His body felt like fire within and ice outside. The mix of the two drove him crazy, left him an incoherent moaning mess. He slumped forward, feeling himself laying across a sculpted, muscular chest. 

He'd left the bed entirely. Floating in the air, he was completely at the ghost’s whims, and it made every wet slap of skin more thrilling. He could only take it as Victor thrust deeper, harder, leaving Yuuri crying out. He wrapped his legs around Victor’s hips, aching for more. Harder. Faster. 

A hand wrapped back around his cock, stroking him again. Yuuri was already painfully close. This pulled him closer and closer to the edge. He cried out as he spilled, spattering his underwear with even more of a mess. 

He heard distant voices, but they felt so far away. They kissed, hungry and dark, all teeth and tongue, devouring each other with a blind fervor. The cock thrust deep once more, and Yuuri could feel Victor groaning into his mouth, feel that chilly cock start to twitch and spill inside him. He didn’t want to let go. 

Suddenly, the touch vanished. 

Yuuri fell a solid foot through the air, landing in a heap on the bed. He was in a daze. Phichit was there beside him, slapping Yuuri’s cheeks and trying to get him to respond. 

Yuuri mumbled something even he couldn’t figure out. 

“Yuuri, holy shit, we have to get out of here- Yuuri, answer me!”

Yuuri mumbled again, “mmm Phichit, be quiet.”

“Oh my god,  _ Yuuri!  _ You’re okay! Come on, sit up, we have to get out of here-” Yuuri blinked his eyes open as the doors all slammed shut. 

Phichit was frozen in fear. 

Yuuri slowly sat up. He felt messy, like he’d actually been having sex instead of having an extremely vivid dream. It even felt like someone had cum inside him. 

Across the room, the cameraman was trying to film something floating through the air. 

A velvet box. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered as it hovered about a foot in front of him, slowly opening. 

A golden ring sat inside. Yuuri slowly picked it up. “Am I… supposed to wear this?”

A breeze carried through the room, sending dusty curtains and drop cloths stirring. It felt like a dream, more like swimming through water than air. He put the ring on his right hand. It felt right. 

A window shattered. 

Phichit was finally able to move, grabbing Yuuri’s arm and dragging him from the bed with a scream. “We have to go!  _ Now!” _

Yuuri crumpled to the floor and rose to his feet, hauled bodily out of the room. They sprinted through the house, down the stairs and out the front door. They didn’t stop until they were well across the street. 

The cameraman was a sickly, pale white. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Are you okay?” Phichit asked. He was trembling, patting Yuuri’s arms and face like he was making sure Yuuri was still there. 

Yuuri nodded slowly. “What... what happened?” He felt sticky still, like he had cum dripping down his thighs. It was extremely unpleasant. His body ached liked he’d spent too long playing with his dildo. 

Phichit slowly caught his breath. “You didn’t come down after ten minutes. We called for you, and you never answered. We heard sounds upstairs, so we went up. You were- fuck, Yuuri! You were floating! In the fucking air! What happened?”

“It felt like a dream,” Yuuri said. He blinked slowly. “It… wasn’t? Or was it…”

“Yuuri, can you even hear me?” Phichit asked. He snapped his fingers, trying to catch Yuuri’s attention. Yuuri felt half drunk. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m… I feel out of it still.”

“Do you believe me now?” Phichit said in a strangled voice. “Oh my god, we have to get this film edited right away. No one is ever going to believe what we saw!”

“I- It was a dream!” Yuuri said firmly. “Nothing  _ happened.  _ It couldn’t have happened because ghosts aren’t real. I think I just hit my head on the headboard or something.” He rubbed a bump on his head, wincing. 

Phichit was practically raving. “Are you crazy? I saw you floating. You tell him.” He pointed at the cameraman, who was vigorously nodding his head.

“You were floating! And then the box floated over to you, what the hell, man, what happened in there?”

Yuuri shucked off his gear, suddenly angry. “I’m telling you, it was just a dream.” He shoved the camera and the rest of the gear at Phichit and stormed off to his car. He felt dusty and sticky and disgusting. He just wanted to shower and forget all this.

He heard his phone ring and ping several times as he drove home. Phichit, probably. Yuuri muted it at a stoplight, too angry to answer. 

He went straight to the shower when he got home. He stripped off his filthy, dusty clothes and left them in a pile outside the door. The steam quickly fogged up the mirror. Yuuri grumbled as he shucked off his trousers. 

His boxer briefs were stained. Yuuri cringed as he pulled them off. He’d definitely cum in them like a horny teenager. More cum trickled down his thighs. 

Yuuri paused. He definitely hadn’t released that much. His fingers crept down between his legs. He leaned against the counter and reached around, prodding his tender, slightly abused hole. He winced. It felt like he’d… been fucked. More cum trickled out of him. 

Yuuri held his breath as he brought his fingers to the light. He’d been fucked. He rubbed the glass so he could see his face. His lips were still puffy from the harsh kisses. 

Had it not been a dream? Yuuri shakily looked at his hand. 

A golden ring sat on his ring finger. Definitely not a dream, he realized. The feeling sank down into the pit of his stomach. So then… if it wasn’t a dream…

Movement caught his eye. He slowly looked up at the mirror. Letters slowly appeared in the fog, written in a graceful hand. 

_ Hello Yuuri~ _

Hands grasped his waist once more, and Yuuri could swear he felt lips against his bare shoulder. A cold breeze carried through the room despite the heat from the shower. 

It felt like someone had pressed the length of their body against Yuuri’s back, and he muffled a soft groan into the back of his hand. He could almost,  _ almost  _ make out piercing blue eyes in the fogged over mirror. 

New letters appeared, and where the mirror was clean, Yuuri could see nothing at all behind him. 

_ Again? _

A ghostly hand stroked down his hip, curling almost affectionately around his cock. He felt a chin settle in the crook of his neck, butterfly kisses to his cheek, whispers in his ear. 

His body ached. His eyes closed. 

“Victor… Yes.” 

He arched his back against Victor’s chest, blindly seeking out the ghostly touch. Open and slick as he was, it was nothing at all for his body to open around the head of an invisible cock. A low gasp escaped him once more. He should be more afraid. 

This was truly not a dream. Somehow it felt comforting. 

A free hand slid down Yuuri’s arm, lacing its fingers between Yuuri’s. The golden ring’s twin felt warm against Yuuri’s hand. Everything felt right.

* * *

**One Week Later**

Yuuri was limping into the HumLink offices and trying to pretend he wasn’t. He’d spent the entirety of the last week in bed with a ghost, and he wasn’t too keen on explaining the ins and outs of all that. 

Was Victor even a ghost? The more time they spent together, the more solid Victor was starting to appear. He could manifest an image of himself for almost a solid minute now. He didn’t meet the criteria of a demon...

Yuuri’s coworkers waved at him and greeted him like usual. From what Yuuri had heard, neither he nor Phichit had been in to work since the ‘incident’, as Yuuri had taken to calling it. Better for Yuuri, then. He needed to destroy all evidence of him getting fucked on camera. By a ghost. 

The last thing Yuuri needed was the world thinking he was crazy. 

The SD cards were in a little pile beside Phichit’s computer, ready to be downloaded and spliced into a video. Yuuri carried them to his desk and slid the first one into his laptop. 

It was blank. Not the whole video, but the entire segment of Yuuri’s visit upstairs was already gone. Every clip of that part was corrupted beyond use. 

Yuuri felt something cold brush his hand right above the ring. Victor’s smile pressed against his palm, turning up in a smug smirk. 

Yuuri hissed under his breath, “did you do this?”

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand. A few papers scattered across the SD cards, covering them up. Yuuri got the message. 

“Were you… protecting me?” 

A kiss to his jawline. A yes, Yuuri assumed. Yuuri giggled slightly as the kisses tickled their way down his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Oh boy, Phichit is going to never get over this.”

For just a second, Yuuri swore he could see light reflecting off a golden ring- the very same golden rings they had worn one hundred years ago.  “I’m sorry I took so long. Can you ever forgive me?” 

A small kiss. A squeeze of Yuuri’s palm.  _ Of course.  _ Yuuri smiled to himself, the warm feeling spreading through his chest.  Looked like this was one case that was going to stay...

_Unsolved._

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to follow me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/AurumAuri14)


End file.
